Who are any of us but obscenities with bouts of clarity that cloud the chaos which i need like oxygen just for a dip but to plunge i desire fire from napalm in a- bombs with mushroom clouds my pride wont function with anything less anyhow im a habitual up is how my name is pronounced not much good at what you want but good at gettin what we geek in the twilight hours for.... but wait there's more any chance you can enjoy romance an hearts dance till we realize it than we take runnin from it spend every hour fightin it but let anotha muthaer in n were fightin we need to let some light in but we dwell in a darkness more than night so maybe we can find each other at peace in the twilight u love of my life apple of daddys eye crusher of anything that feels right ruiner of any moment with all your might id treasure a few moments with you without so much as a peep but wed have to be in water over our heads no longer bubbling a lil to deep but only than can the crushing void begin to seep a leap into the abyss or yet another miss i think
The day is soon coming, my friends
when Israel will put an end
to all of its enemies, even Russia
Who dares stand in Jacob’s way
will with his very life have to pay ~
buried ‘neath the Lord’s own bone-crusher
This is no “mirror talk”
It’s a eulogy in the making
And your indecision towards everything about me is record-breaking
It’s as infinite as a galaxy but not nearly as pretty
Well everything I could want, is here with me now
Everything I could need, I’m working for right now
Well everything I could’ve needed from you
Has tasted the needle and watched it’s veins turn neon green
Already gone and foaming at the seams
At least one of my manifestations deserves to rest in peace
I’m reaiming my punch at the wall clock and not the timecard
Through the shards, I rip out the smaller hand and admire this blade I’m now wielding
And all this time I’m now saving
No “higher ups” could hear me bleeding and aching through the ticks of a nine to five
but per their message of relief, take it a minute at a time and we’ll be fine
While I’m holding this fate-crusher in my palm,
I might as well cross a few names off my list
You may see this as a fight, not even working taking
But my whole life has been an open vein and all I’ve ever done is subsist
This is no pep rally,
It’s a eulogy in the making
realities routine's are a stone crusher
all of it
the jobs
the relationships
the striving
the failing
the achievements (I'm guessing)
and more begets more
all the do's of you hafeta do
you can get tired beyond exhaustion
tired of your self
your thoughts (if you are inclined to that sort of thing)
and relief is much needed
some quiet
a long walk
to
the middle of
nowhere
some surcease
the compassion of a dog's eyes
Rip-rap for the sides of highways
Surge is for the smaller byways
Twos and threes, a nice good base
Twenty-fours, a French drain, place
Fifty-sevens to dress a road,
Sixty-sevens, for better flow.
Crusher run is best on top
And that is where my knowledge stops…
Given a dog’s chance to survive
You won’t your swimming passions revive:
It would be over between you and butterfly strokes,
A thousand ‘All over’ with them even in jokes…
…And between you and jetty releases of mouthed water
You, ready to end its physical life with a mortar!
Allowed to live again,
Your church shan’t fail to gain
I predict: A hundred tuberous yams
And an appreciable number of Jewish rams
That should in any parish stir thrills
As well as tickle divine nostrils…
Now, erased from your mind
Are your gay strides towards your crusher
Its beautiful, treasured bank completely cast behind
And your greedy glances at what its scenes usher
Which you’d feared its disappearance the next moment
And you make a lousy loser of the worthier than ornament…
Sorry for the Drowning
Fighting his fate with mainly frowning.
When I was a child, I was a dreamer.
I lived in the land of dreams.
If I desired it, it was possible. There
were no dreams too big or small.
But I wasn't prepared for the dream
crusher and his twin, dream destroyer.
I was young and vulnerable, so I couldn't
recognize them when they came my way.
They were like wolves in sheep's clothing.
I became a doubter of dreams instantly.
As the years went by and I got older and
matured, I started to dream again.
I realized that dreams are good for the
soul and you're never too old to dream.
Dreams are attainable, and they give one
something to live for and look forward to.
I chose not to let anyone crush my dreams,
not even myself.
Alexis Y.
02/22/2021
There was an orange tanned douchebag called Trump
Playing hero on a bicycle pump
When inflating his Ego
Before sorting the Lego
The great wall crushed with a flatulent thump
London BoJo called Muslims a post box
Surely they spread contagion and small pox
We must rule the waves
Or else we'll be slaves
In isolation stranded on dry docks
Blame it on Putin and that Xi Jingpin
Produce a fake red yellow catarrh spin
Those bastards won't mind
Just one of a kind
Virus Vodka in a chop suey tin
Mexicans count their left over last grace
With Europe a mere historical phase
China meets Russia
As fake news' crusher
Xenophobes leave their vile virulent taste
Poets scribe of idiots in power
Just ink on sheets no Ivory Tower
Peace from a kind pen
Once more and again
United in truth and scripted power
05th April 2020
I used to be a dreamer
until I fell for a dream crusher
I used to be very optimistic
until I met miss negative
I used to have beautiful wings
until I ran into a shearer
I used to be a lovely garden
until someone planted weeds
I used to see vibrant colors
until I came across mr.dull
Beware of such folk.
They bring destruction,
everywhere they go.
2-27-2020
Alexis Y.
Inspired by the “Warning”
contest
In the scrapyard
Abandoned and forlorn
Sunburned lackluster paint
Scavengers’ delight
Headlights dashboard fins
Leather seats and
Glistening rims long gone
Nothing to do but reminisce
The glory of hey days
Top down cruising the boulevard
Miles and miles of sun and valley
That was then and this is now
Kicking back and resting
Sadly waiting for the crusher
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~RANDOM MUSINGS VOL.1~ 2020
AP: 2nd place 2022, Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on March 15, 2020 for contest STRAND CHOICE G sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 2ND
Vehicles, muscled cars were built, to be fast;
creatures of iron and steel;
the wildest beasts.
In the day of manufactured power, Lynx and Jaguar raced; thunderbirds flew low to ground with wings,
as fast as, a road runner.
The mighty Chevy of “57” dreams;
leant compassions ear to young Edsel,
when he failed his popularity test.
Lightening swift, these darts did fly;
racing down, route “66” back then,
the pride supported its own.
Metal, mega-mammals, like all others;
live and die their last wheeze and cough,
recorded by the crusher.
Those who signed away body parts;
the donors left a re-built legacy.
Beautiful and powerful, as their ancestors;
legacy lives on but, route “66” is a much milder path.
In Heaven’s showroom;
lion and lamb lie, side-by-side;
these are the souls of the metal mammals.
She used to glimmer-sparkle-spin.
Like a pinwheel in a small-town parade.
Now she's rasping- reeling and collapsing.
One massive black hole playing charades.
The helix has unwound and denatured.
She's a sundial crusher in sunlight decay.
Lust for living bleeding out many eons ago.
There isn't any music nor chorus in her soul.
Everything lies wounded-dying or dead.
Nothing escapes from this black-hearted wretch.
She is a black abyss, nothing more, nothing less.
She has swallowed whole the last lantern fish.
In my remote village a long time ago
From town came a man of twenty or so
Set up a smart machine called gristmill
Times have changed but it’s there still.
Every weekend I had to go there to share
A duty that for me became a routine affair
Take a bagful of fresh wheat grain to grind
In the mill that produced flour so refined.
The sound of the crusher was harsh incessant
The attitude of the man was equally indecent
For he made me wait a long while for my turn
The unseemly reason I could never discern.
Despite this touch of forced discomfort
My weekly tryst with the gristmill was of worth
For the floating aroma of freshly ground wheat
Dipped me in cool scent of corn field in summer heat.
When I’m crumbled now under the time’s wheel
I see me standing before the village gristmill
In the midst of cacophony and grinding strife
I can still smell the scent of the crushed life.
Posted : June 3, 2018
June 18, 2020
Contest : Crushed
Sponsor : Anthony Biaanco
Sunday Service At Saint James Episcopal
These poems are reflections of
this Church Service.
Willing and Fulfilling
To accept God I am always willing,
And His Spirit in me He is instilling;
Am drifting;
Is uplifting;
That I always will find so fullfilling.
At church we have a great usher;
On women can be a wild crusher;
Great voice;
We rejoice;
He is known to be a child husher.
Have been impressed with God's balm;
Severe harsh storms surely can calm;
Glad He is here;
Close and near;
Son walked on road covered with palm.
Priests are all known for their notoriety;
And they give great sermons in a variety;
We had a hunch;
Handsome bunch;
Are always clear due to sincere sobriety.
Priests are known for mumbling and grumbling,
And overcome obstacles that cause stumbling;
So smooth viscosity;
Prepared preciposity;
Even great at singing rose which was rumbling.
With my wife was really impresssed,
Appearing before me and undressed;
Her skin up is clearing;
Redness disappearing;
Stopped scratching which I stressed.
I wish, at this present moment I could be with you.
but I will watch you in the darkness,
and show you my love will see you through.
When the bad dreams wake you crying,
I'll show you all my love for you can do,
All My Love For You Can Do.
I will watch you through the night,
hold you in my arms,
give you dreams where no one will be.
I will watch through the dark,
until the morning comes,
and my love will take you,
through the night to see,
All My Love Showing You All My Love For You Can Be.
I will guard you with my bright wings,
and stay until your heart learns to see,
All My Love For You Can Be,
Your Guardian Angel, YourKidster, Billy,
Now And Always And On Into Eternity,
You and Me Baby
Dedicate to My Samara,
aka, TheSamonster,
The Crusher Of Everything And Anything Cancer.
Never A Quitter, Always A Fighter.
Everyone Who Meets Her Can't Help But Immediately Love Her.
but no words of mine could ever fully truly express the bond I have with her.
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